


You Make Me Burn Like A Star In The Night

by bloodsugar



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Dating, Developing Relationship, First Dates, La Liga, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The thing about Cristiano Ronaldo is that you never know how he’s going to treat you until you’re actually standing in front of him, on the receiving end of his attention. In retrospect, James thinks, their very first meetings should have clued him in to this curious fact, but perhaps he’d been too busy then, marveling at the sight of Cristiano to figure out anything else. And then, the same could be applied to the time after that, and the time after that – really, to the majority of their communication in general. It has taken James the longest time to get a clue, that Cristiano Ronaldo is unpredictable to everyone, and above all to James.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Burn Like A Star In The Night

 

_**[G](http://footiez.tumblr.com/tagged/107)** imme your love_

_I need your love, yes I need it like that_

_Can you see it deep in my eyes?_

_You make me feel so high_

_You make me burn like a star in the nigh **[t](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVKVfH8CDKE)**_

_I don't know why you turn my feelings like that_

 

 

 

 

The thing about Cristiano Ronaldo is that you never know how he’s going to treat you until you’re actually standing in front of him, on the receiving end of his attention. In retrospect, James thinks, their very first meetings should have clued him in to this curious fact, but perhaps he’d been too busy then, marveling at the sight of Cristiano to figure out anything else. And then, the same could be applied to the time after that, and the time after that – really, to the majority of their communication in general. It has taken James the longest time to get a clue, that Cristiano Ronaldo is unpredictable to everyone, and above all to James.

 

 

~

 

 

Cristiano Ronaldo gets what he wants, as soon as he wants it. That had sounded like a pretty fair assumption to James in the beginning of season 2014/2015 when he’d joined Real, thus fulfilling his long-term dream. So really, if Cristiano wanted him – yes, **wanted** _James_ ; James may be daft but he isn’t so daft that he can’t tell when someone wants to fuck him – Cristiano would have had him in August, right? Wrong.

 

The month of August brought flirtation galore, shameless touches, smiles, and winks. And nothing beyond that. Cristiano treated James like a cute little thing to be won over with charm and little gestures. Naturally, it worked, because James has hot blood, and it’s not hard to set that Colombian blood boiling. Particularly so when you are Cristiano Ronaldo, and you’re getting your flirt on with someone who has idolized you for a decade - more or less.

 

But nothing happened beyond that, leaving James riled up and confused, or at least to such an extent where he could imagine being riled up and confused. He received a good lesson in this too, in time.

 

So maybe Cristiano was interested only in flirtation, which was fine with James too, actually. Beyond fine.  Finedy fine fine. He caught himself practically preening on multiple occasions, giggling at Cristiano’s jokes and giving the man coy adoring looks. James is no virgin, nor is he a priest, so he allowed himself to partake and to enjoy partaking into some healthy back-and-forth with Cristiano. In training, they could attribute it to goofing around with team mates; and on the pitch they could consider their goal celebrations as enthusiastic demonstrations of happiness. The world was their stage, and they were both acting their parts – the friendly heterosexual team mates, so confident in their sexual orientations they acted borderline _gay_ with each other. Oh, the media had _no_ idea.

 

In September, when Cristiano most definitely was _not_ giving it to James nice and good in every room of his shiny spacious house, the media went so far as to say that the two had a rivalry going on. They got a laugh out of that one over a couple of cocktails at Sergio’s house one evening, long after whoever was invited had split into little pairs and wandered off to different parts of the house. James half expected Cristiano to prove the media wrong, right then and there in the middle of Ramos’ living room, but no dice. Cristiano just winked at him again – infuriating – thus prompting James’ flustered look and developing erection. Getting rid of that was nearly as annoying as Cristiano’s mixed signals.

 

Cristiano was checking James out every chance he got, James knew as much. He is observant and clever, and he swayed and shook his ass enough around Cristiano to know exactly when and how the older man would sneak looks at him. Not that they were sneaky looks. Cristiano was as unapologetic about looking at James like a peace of meat, as he was about his hat tricks and penalties. James liked him that way, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that if Cristiano wanted him, why hadn’t he taken him already?

 

James spent the greater part of September wondering this, and he got not much further with the answer than he had in the month before that.

 

 

~

 

 

Then came October, with their winning streak knocking teams out like it was child’s play, and the only way James could describe the feeling they all got from that is as ‘a giant, collective football boner’. And the thing about collective boners is that they bring team mates closer together.

 

Cristiano scored, a lot. James assisted and scored a lot. They celebrated each other’s goals by getting their hands all over each other in front of dozens of thousands of fans, hundreds of cameras, and essentially – the world. Hell, they even celebrated their other team mates’ goals by touching each other, and if that didn’t put James on edge, then what would have? But it wasn’t a lie that it was an edge James enjoyed being on, or even playing with. He went to Cristiano readily every time, letting his body language show that he was ready to play ball, and then some. And if that was bait, Cristiano took it again, and again, knowing exactly what he was doing each time his hands lingered on James’ back, or slid around James’ waist. It was a slow little burn, and James thought – maybe it wasn’t about getting something as soon as Cristiano wished for it. Maybe it was something else.

 

Weeks passed by like this – with them ‘playing around’ and getting closer, James slowly tuning into the fact that he was Cristiano’s favorite. He hoped he wasn’t Cristiano’s new toy; he considered himself Cristiano’s friend, but whatever he was – James was Cristiano’s favorite. Marcelo even told him so after they taught Cristiano how to “move his hips better” – something James was sure Cristiano had no problem with in the first place. And bless the Brazilian, James did not want to sound cocky or self indulgent, but it was true. “Gareth’s been with us for months, and he started right where you were but look at you now.” Marcelo had grinned at James. “You must be happy as hell that Cristiano likes you so much, he never acted this way with anyone else.”

 

These words had sure stuck in James’ mind enough to prompt a _handful_ of jerk-off sessions over the following couple of weeks. More than that, each time Cristiano would call James over, or better yet – grab James by the arm, or the waist – and pull him close, James thought of those words. _‘He never acted this way.’_ Every time Cristiano took him by the hand and tugged him closer still, James would remember. _‘Cristiano likes you so much.’_ Surely, Marcelo hadn’t meant those words in a sexual way, or in a romantic way, but James’ hopeful little heart knew how to delve in deep and latch onto the fantasy. And how much of a fantasy was it, when Cristiano was almost always within an arm’s reach of James, wonderfully invading James’ space; giving James those intense dark looks, and those beautiful pearly smiles.

 

Behind the truth of their blooming friendship was a seduction that James wasn’t ready to disregard.

 

 

~

 

 

And so comes November, with their winning streak still alive and well, mirroring the state of James’ slow ride into insanity. Cristiano uses his car to hit on James – [**s**](http://as.com/videos/2014/11/05/portada/1415184388_215715.html)peeding past James’car on their way to the stadium, and turning on his left tail light – the auto equivalent of winking. It sets James’ blood on fire yet again and he nearly slips at the turn into the car park. No biggie, he tells himself, checking the rearview mirror in case any of the fans are holding signs that way ‘James, your giant crush on Cristiano is showing.’ They aren’t, but if they were, James wouldn’t be surprised. At training, he brings it up, because he is masochistic that way, and the reactions from whoever is close are nearly as good as James hasn’t imagined they’d be.

 

Fabio rolls his eyes and mutters something about stupid dare devil behavior as Karim passes him a ball, successfully drawing his attention. Gareth looks like he is trying to decipher the Spanish but then he grins wide and shakes his head. Of course he finds everything Cristiano does lovely and funny; James can relate. He can swear that beside him Marcelo says “What kind of weird ass flirting is that?” under his breath, but when James looks at him, the Brazilian looks focused on passing the ball back and forth with Toni.

 

“What are you, Cristiano, 12 years old?” Iker asks on his way toward the goal, eyebrows drawn together in an unimpressed frown. Cristiano’s response is a smirk, and a confident smart ass comment: “12 year olds can’t drive, Iker.” To that, Iker replies with “But they do talk back.” And that earns the man a round of applause from Gareth, Toni, Isco and Luka, who is lingering by, warming up. Sergio hasn’t arrived yet or he’d clap the loudest, James thinks, only mildly distracted from Cristiano with the thought.

 

Albeit now silent, Cristiano looks as shameless as ever. He gives James a once over, then lights up like a Cristmas tree when he sees AS and Marca reporters snapping photographs and making videos from the seats. James has half a mind to have Cristiano chase him around the Bernabéu, but that would be too much caveman behavior, wouldn’t it? And as much as he would enjoy for Cristiano to engage him in some good caveman behavior, James allows himself to be pulled in immediately, for another demonstration of their “rivalry” to the media. Let them reporters feel at least one hundredth of James’ frustration, since they’re so daring.

 

 

  
That Saturday, after their match against Rayo Vallecano, Cristiano takes James out to dinner. Since the match ends so late, and they’re responsible athletes, they don’t have a late meal together, and get drinks at a bar instead. But they’re responsible athletes, so James has a coke and Cristiano orders a sparkling water. The charade lasts long enough for James to gather the balls to openly roll his eyes at Cristiano and suggest they go back to his place.

 

Momentarily, Cristiano stares at him, then his lips curl into a smile and he looks like he is about to call James’ bluff. James is staring at him expectantly, his heart jumping in his chest as Cristiano pays the bill – what a gentleman, James thinks, if James were a woman, and if these were the 50s, he would be melting in his seat. “I’ll drive you home.” Cristiano says, looking adamant and secure, like someone who not only does not want to be questioned, but can not be questioned at all. James lets him dwell in that sense of authority and lets Cristiano take him home. On the way, while lounging more comfortably than he feels, in Cristiano’s Audi, James grumbles to himself just a little, before it finally occurs to him. Cristiano is playing the long game.

  
With that realization temporarily stunning him, James manages not to do anything rash or stupid like kissing Cristiano senseless in front of his house. Instead, he bids Cris goodnight and goes inside to his baby girl. Tonight, his wife only briefly asks him if he’s still so wound up, because it is quite obvious. James goes to sleep clutching her hand after having ranted to his heart’s content to her about cocky millionaire footballers who just won’t get on with the program.

 

 

 

Cristiano takes him out on a bunch more semi-dates throughout the following week. An expensive restaurant at the top floor of one of Madrid’s highest buildings; a dark bar near Cristiano’s house where the music is low and inviting and Cristiano’s voice even more so; staying behind after practice to have lunch together at a fancy place close to the Bernabéu.

 

Clearly hung up on some gentleman concept, Cristiano does nothing more than to stroke James’ thigh and murmur sweet nothings as he leans into James’ space and speaks directly into his ear. This is how James learns what being confused truly means. Are they men or not? Are they gonna fuck, or not? Excuse his language.

 

Not long after James has decided he can take no more of this build up, Cristiano surprises him again. It’s a night like any other they’ve spent together recently, with Cristiano having James get into his overpriced car and then driving him home – except this time they head toward Cristiano’s house. James perks up, but only a little, because has learned better. He creates an elaborate picture in his mind, in which Cristiano is driving him to his house to show James the collection of awards he has received in the last decade. It helps James’ unrealistic hopes diminish significantly, and he almost enjoys the sense of cynism settling in.

 

By fate’s cruel will, Cristiano actually takes James to his trophy room to show him his third Golden Boot. “You weren’t there at the ceremony, so here it is.” Cristiano says, sounding proud and accomplished, with his arm around James’ back feeling heavy and yet not nearly heavy enough. Meanwhile, James contemplates taking the boot and throwing it at a window, imagining how Cristiano’s girlfriend would pop up from somewhere in the house after hearing the noise, and then invite him to stay the night and witness her and Cristiano have sex. The story is taking shape in James’ head, and he’s getting annoyed by every manufactured by his imagination image, when Cristiano shifts against him and pulls him in.

 

It takes a good moment for Cristiano to sufficiently distract James from the crazy scenario in his head, and when James meets his eyes, he thinks he sees recognition in Cristiano’s eyes. Perhaps Cris is catching on to the fact that James has had enough of this courtship ritual, and he needs less seduction and more – well, whatever comes post-seduction with Cristiano Ronaldo.

 

James is about to say this, all of it, and perhaps too much after that, when Cristiano tucks him against his body – their fronts touching,  no, glued together – and James barely manages to keep a moan stuck in his throat. He lets his arms find their way to Cristiano’s shoulders, as Cristiano leans in and presses their foreheads together, then nuzzles at James’ cheek with the tip of his nose. James lets out a sigh at that, some relief washing over him as his fingers find Cristiano’s nape. He pets at the fine hairs on the back of Cristiano’s neck, and tilts his head to the side, meeting Cristiano’s lips, a little dazed.

 

The kiss is comfortable, unhurried, and intimate in the best of ways. Despite the fire in James’ chest, it is devoid of the urgency he would expect, and that somehow feels good. Their tongues meet as Cristiano backs him into the wall, James’ back meeting the hard surface, inviting him to just let go and mould into Cristiano’s form until they turn to mush. But James is the only one melting - Cristiano feels solid in front of him, the way his hands support James by the hips, and his body presses James into the wall. Unapologetic again.

 

James lets himself moan this time around, right into Cristiano’s mouth, only to have the sound swallowed by Cristiano’s lips. James wants to follow that sound, to crawl into Cristiano, settle in deep and get comfortable there, to feel Cristiano all around him. It bleeds into the kiss, this desire, but less so from James’ side – or maybe it is he that prompts it. Cristiano hoists him up a little, until James is practically on his toes – in more ways than one – and kisses him deeper, harder. His tongue drags over James’, deliberately slow and insistent, exploring James’ taste, or trying to memorize it. The sensation alone sends a shiver down James’ spine, and it is one he enjoys thoroughly.

 

It lasts forever, yet predictably it is not enough – James is weak in the knees when Cristiano pulls back, and they exchange looks that if James was to describe, he’d put romantic novels to shame with. Cristiano pulls back a little more, enough so that they’re not touching, and this is the time when James learns the meaning of being truly riled up.

 

“You alright?” Cristiano asks him, a perfect gentleman, his voice a soft murmur, killing James a bit more with each syllable.

 

James can’t play the long game, or he _can_ , but not the way Cristiano wants him to. Not with the seduction, and the looks, and the touches, and the teasing. If they have been dating for the past two weeks, then this is their eighth date and everyone knows one is supposed to put out on the third date. James is on that third date for the fifth time, and he can not handle any more third dates.

 

“I want you.” He says, and the real relief comes then, once the words have left his mouth. His cheeks flush even harder, but in a way it is worth it, if only to see Cristiano’s pupils dialate as his gaze is dead set on James’ face. It spurs James on in a way that only a good assist or the roar of fifty thousand fans can. “I want you, Cristiano.” He repeats, the name so lovely on his tongue James can not help but let it roll off of the tip, sweet and beckoning. He feels Cristiano’s hands find his hips again, and hopes it is with the sole purpose to help lead him to Cristiano’s bedroom.

 

Instead, Cristiano uses his larger form to push him back against the wall and crowds into him, muttering a hoarse “More.” before he bends down to bury his face in James’ shoulder, their chests grazing together. James lets out a shaky little laugh, although nothing about being the reason for Cristiano sounding like that is funny. He arches forward, Cristiano’s fingers falling to the dip of his spine so easily it’s like poetry. Cristiano’s lips find James’ neck, and the feel of them nibbling at his skin sets James’ insides ablaze. He moans through a full body shudder, not having the sense to be ashamed of his own over-reaction, and his fingers are in Cristiano’s hair now, stroking and seeking purchase at the same time. If Cristiano wants more - who is James to deny him; and if it leads to them having sex right there against the wall - who is James to judge.

 

Cristiano’s kissing and biting and licking at James’ skin has James writhe and sigh, his vision blurring in that haze, the fog spreading to his mind. “I’ve been waiting, so much, so – impatient for this.” James heaves, the words coming out almost slurred, broken by his panting. But Cristiano doesn’t seem to mind, instead he presses James further into the wall until it’s getting harder to breathe and James loves every second of it. He spreads his legs wider to accommodate Cristiano’s larger build and just presses himself to the older man, finally feeling pretty shameless himself. “Every time you took me out, I – God, I love being your date... the way, the way people would look at us. At me, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever.. ahhh—“

 

James’ train of thought, if there was one in the first place, is interrupted as Cristiano rocks, _hard_ , into him, grinding their pelvises together. It occurs to James that Cristiano likes it too, likes to take James out and show him off. Wildly, James wonders if he is the new pretty thing on Cristiano’s arm.

 

“God--, you have to… you have to tell me why it took you so, so long.” James pants, the curiosity getting the best of him now, his hips stuttering to meet Cristiano’s. Everything takes him back to his teenage years – the grinding, the hero worship, the build up with no pay off at the end. James needs the pay off, needs for Cristiano to tell him everything, and to do everything – in whichever order Cristiano wants, or even at the same time if he so wishes. “Please.” James is not above begging. “I need to know.” His voice takes on a higher pitch as Cristiano squeezes him by the waist and starts sucking hard at the spot where James’ neck meets shoulder. James stiffens and struggles briefly, then strains into it, eager and needy, relaxing only when Cristiano is done marking him – fuck, _marking_ James – and pulls back, the look in his eye heated and resolute.

 

James has enough time to form a sentence in his head that he doesn’t get the chance to say before Cristiano, done admiring the work he has done on James’ neck, pulls him up the stairs to the second floor. It reminds James of the way Cristiano manhandles him on the pitch when they’re training, but it is the same in no way aside from Cristiano’s determination. The bedroom is large, and dark, and those are the only things James has the opportunity or will to note about it before he sinks into the bed, lying on his back and looking up at Cristiano in anticipation.

 

James is ready to see Cristiano strip, to gape and maybe even drool at the sight, but Cristiano starts with him – his hands dexterous and fast on James’ jeans, shirt, boxers. James has never been undressed so fast in his life, including the times when he was the one undressing himself, and if he wasn’t already hard as rock, he would sure as hell be getting there now. James throbs, the realization that Cristiano wants him so badly he just unwrapped him like a Christmas present reaching every nerve in James’ body and setting it alert. He sits up, hands eager to touch Cristiano, helping him undress as well, then sliding over Cristiano’s abs and chest. James explores every inch of skin he can reach before Cristiano crawls on top of him, pressing his smaller form into the bed.

 

They get lost in another kiss, with Cristiano’s leg pushing James’ open, and James’ hands finding Cristiano’s back, almost clawing at it in his need. The contact of their skin, blissfully naked, pressing together is almost enough to have James come right there on the spot, but there is so much more he wants out of Cristiano, he can’t be satisfied with just this. James is a man on death row and his last meal has to be the best of his life. He clutches Cristiano closer, simultaneously arching up against him and pressing them together.

 

Cristiano responds in kind, giving even more than James has asked for, his hips coming into James’ again, and again - in slow, firm rolling motions, their erections sliding together. James imagines that hard cock inside of him and shudders again, spreading his legs wider and raising them around Cristiano’s muscular thighs, cradling him. Cristiano breaks the kiss then, and meets James’ eyes. The look he gives James says too much and nothing at all at the same time. James would ask, something, but he’s momentarily lost, canting his hips in Cristiano’s direction and pressing them together again.

 

They grind together for a hot, lingering moment, before Cristiano reaches for the bedside and gets some lube and condoms – always prepared, James thinks idly – and starts working on preparing James. James gets lost in the sensations until Cristiano has three slick fingers inside of him, and then the thought comes to him - Cristiano is preparing him to be fucked. It’s been too long, and James is going to be fucked, not by some random guy in a bar, or a trusted friend-with-benefits, but by Cristiano. He whines helplessly, only partly because Cristiano’s fingers graze his prostate. James moves his hips eagerly, fucking himself on Cris’ hand, his eyes meeting Cristiano’s dark gaze, and as they do, Cristiano curls his fingers, pressing hard on that spot inside James and holding until James sees white and cries out, shooting the evidence of his orgasm onto his quivering belly.

 

James is still coming down from it, when he feels Cristiano take hold of his thigh and press it to James’ chest, opening James up. Even in his daze, James feels his dick twitch and he wastes no time in lifting his other leg higher around Cristiano’s torso, eager for it. He opens his eyes in time to meet Cristiano’s as he pushes into James, his cock breaching James with ease, and fully, until Cristiano bottoms out, balls deep and throbbing there. James throws his head back and smiles around his moan, exhilarated, turned on, _happy_. He has either forgotten how good it feels to have a man on top of him and inside of him, or – and he can fucking bet on this – it is Cristiano. Cristiano’s weight on top of James, Cristiano’s cock inside James feels so…damn…good.

 

James says so out loud, blind and reckless with the pleasure of it, feeling Cristiano shiver in response, before withdrawing slowly. James bites down on his bottom lip, missing that perfect cock already, ready to ask for it again, to ask nicely. He meets Cristiano’s gaze and then Cristiano nails into him hard, giving it to him like James would have asked, and then repeats the motion – again, and again. James cries out with every thrust, mouth agape, eyes wide and searching Cristiano’s face, finding constrained need and obvious determination. So much determination in his expression - like James sees on Cristiano’s face when they’re on the pitch. As Cristiano thrusts, thrusts, thrusts it overwhelms James so much, he thinks – if this is a game of football, James is the goal and Cristiano keeps scoring, and **scoring** into it.

 

He claws at the pillow as Cristiano fucks him into the mattress, the pace masterfully established and kept - rhythmic, fast and steady. James wants to compliment Cris on it, to tell him how good he is at this; how James knew he would be, knew Cristiano would fuck like a dream. Instead, all he musters are broken little moans, which grow into groans and grunts, James losing and finding his voice over and over again as Cristiano seems to stimulate every single nerve ending James has, and more. A particularly hard thrust has James almost sobbing through a moan, his dick hard and twitching yet again, leaking in its need.

 

“Please, please..” James whispers, arms reaching for Cristiano – to pull him closer because it isn’t enough, or to push him away because it is too much. James knows nothing besides the feeling of Cristiano on top of him, and even less so when Cris lets himself be embraced, and lays _into_ James, his knees braced firm on the mattress as he keeps up the thrusts, almost punishing now as James just won’t. shut. up _._

 

He cries out Cristiano’s name as his orgasm approaches, legs around Cristiano’s hips, squeezing like vice. James’ approaching orgasm is unforgiving, like Cristiano’s thrusts inside of him. Each one delivers Cristiano’s cock deep inside, their skin slapping together, the sound lewd and shameless, the perfect accompaniment to the sounds leaving James’ lips. It barely crosses James’ mind that come morning he will blush crimson at the memory of the way he sounds right now - responding to Cristiano’s throbbing cock, to this perfect hard fuck - a little Colombian whore, whining and panting for every thrust, every twist of Cristiano’s hips.

 

It only spurs Cristiano more, and round and round it goes between them, each pushing the other closer to the edge, Cristiano nailing James into the bed so good and rough near the end that James chokes on his moans, his mind reeling with the pleasure of it. They come together, practically at the same time, James’ back arching up and off of the bed as Cristiano bites another mark into his shoulder, alternating between using his teeth and soothing James’ skin with his lips as Cris’ hips stutter into James’ ass.

 

Their synced orgasms leave them collapsed together, Cristiano’s heavier weight pushing James into the mattress in the best of ways. James’ entire body is so relaxed, he fights sleep with all his might, just long enough to murmur at Cristiano that he makes “.. a lovely blanket, mmm, should be on top o’ me all the time…” before he falls asleep, sated and pleased.

 

James wakes up in the morning to an empty bedroom, but with a note waiting for him on the pillow.

 

 

 

 

 

It is only then that it occurs to James – maybe these seduction techniques of Cristiano’s are working on him.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
